


A Low Tolerance for Love

by CountessG



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: F/M, hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-21 18:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessG/pseuds/CountessG
Summary: The Walter Manor’s lifeblood is an underground Blue Matter Reactor Facility. The Foreman manages this highly volatile environment with unmatched efficiency. But she’s brought to her knees when the flower sickness, Hanahaki, threatens to choke the life out of her. Now the Foreman must manage her feelings for the Spine or else be suffocated by them.





	1. Chapter 1

Exhaustion tugged at every one of the Foreman’s limbs. It had been her turn to shovel Blue Matter waste out of the reactor today. It was a back breaking job that could only be conducted in a hundred and ten degree metal capsule. She was sore, stinking, and more than a little light headed. It would have be easy for the Foreman to toss the job on a new hire or a maintenance person, but she believed it was only fair that everyone had a turn at the miserable chore. Including herself.  
  
The Foreman gave the thumbs up to the night shift. The Walter Manor Blue Reactor Facility ran for twenty one hours a day, every day. For three hours a day, usually at night, the reactor was shut down and cleaned. The reactor thundered back to life. Its massive internal rods pumped, breaking down fresh Blue Matter. Steam could already be heard hissing as power was created anew. Everything in the Walter Manor, from the smallest sapient kitchen appliance to the ten story high metal giraffe named Delilah required Blue Matter to function. In a way, the Walter Manor itself was a living breathing thing.  
  
The Foreman tipped the giant drum of Blue Matter waste onto a dolly. She said her good nights to the crew. All she had to do now was deposit the drum into the hazardous waste storage area. She thought lovingly of her pillow as her feet lead her automatically. The drum was placed neatly next to a few others. As she stepped out of the holding area she heard shouts coming from the control room. The Foreman dashed towards them. Accidents were not uncommon in the Blue Matter Reactor Facility. The Foremen considered every slip-up her responsibility.  
  
The night crew ran to her. They were all speaking at once. “Stop, stop! One person at a time!” The Foreman’s voice was firm. A voice cried through their babble from the control rooms entrance. She knew it at once as a voice she had heard many times pre-recorded, usually lovely and melodious, now cracked with fear, “It’s the Spine! His core cracked! It’s leaking! D-d-d-do something!”  
  
Barely consciousness, held between a gorgeous copper robot and a rotund bronze robot, was a silver robot.  
“I want a hazmat suit on everyone with heart beat!” The Foreman barked at her subordinates. They all skittered in the direction of the locker room.  
  
“What about you-?” The larger robot asked, his panic obvious. The Foreman cut him off,  
  
“I don’t need it. Now follow me before the whole room is irritated.” The silver robot was half carried half dragged by his fellows. They struggled to keep up with the Foreman. She led them to the hazardous waste storage area. The massive lead doors slid open with a heave from the Foreman. The silver robot was hauled into the room. His limp form was dragged as far from the entrance as possible. Without hesitation she threw off her heavy work gloves. With bare bone white fingers, she popped the silver robots vest buttons, undid his tie, than ripped off his dress shirt.  
The Foreman saw the damage and let out a small sigh of relief. The glass casing around the robots core had indeed been cracked, but the integrity of the titanium cavity had prevented a total meltdown. Her head snapped up to the other robots, “I’ll need a new containment globe and one gram of enriched Blue Matter. The night guys will know where to find it.” The robots looked at one another, then at her. “Now!” She shouted. The pair scrambled away, calling after the Walter Workers.  
  
Silence fell over the storage area. The Foreman, at last, let her professional façade slip away. Her heart beat and her whole body trembled as she truly looked at the silver robot. The Spine. She knew everyone of his songs by heart and owned more than a few autographed photos. They lived in the same manor, but she never shared more than a ‘hello’ or a ‘good afternoon’ with the robot. Now here he was, the Spine, half-dressed before her. Hat, vest, shirt, tie, were all scattered around her. A twisted purple blush took over the Foreman’s bleached face. 'He’s even more handsome up close,' she thought. The hazardous waste storage area had a constant blue glow about it. The professional part of her brain knew the place needed a good scrubbing. But the star struck part of her brain lost itself in the Spine’s shimmering face. Heat crawled up the Foreman’s neck despite the chill of the storage. She breathed in deeply to steady her fluttering nerves. She knew at once it was a mistake. Her nose filled with the scent of the robot. It would haunt her dream for many nights to come. The air was acrid with leaking Blue Matter, but underneath was the tang of heated metal and fresh laundered linen. A giggle escaped the Foreman’s blue lips. In another heartbeat, cascades of laughter filled the storage.  
  
A strange voice spoke, it first pitched itself very low, then very high, and eventually found balance, “Whaaat’s sooo funny?” The Spine, still only barely conscious, looked up at the Foreman with unfocused eyes. The Foreman pawed a tear from her eye and sniffed,  
  
“You smell like a clothes dryer.”  
  
The Foreman ceased her merriment at once when she heard stamping boots echoing in the outer hallway. She slipped back into her accustomed professionalism. Two people approached, dressed in hazmat suits. She knew them as Walter Girls, as none of her subordinates would come so close to direct Blue Matter radiation even with hazmat suits. One held a glass hemisphere while the other had a small vial of cobalt powder. She nodded and let them go to work. The Foreman would have liked to be the first thing the Spine saw when he regained consciousness, but knew it was unnecessary. She watched briefly as the Walter Girl’s expert fingers set about removing the damaged fixture from the robots chest.  
  
The Foreman instructed the night crew to mark the entrance area and control room as potential radiation zones. Then she stumbled out of the underground facility and up the stairs to the Walter Manor basement. As Foreman she had the privilege of an individual lodging. The majority of her fellows stayed in dormitories. Unfortunately, that meant more stairs to climb. Several flights of stairs later the Foreman was, at long last, in her room. She coughed as she lay down on her bed. The Spine’s shimmering blue visage sung to her in her dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

The very next morning the Foreman found herself back in the control room. She wasn’t supposed to be here, but she thought it would be safer if she was. The residual Blue Matter radiation Notes were still at twenty-five. (The unit of measurement is affectionately named after the Walter Manor’s poster childrens musical abilities.) The average human can tolerate three Notes. A Walter Worker, who is thoroughly acclimated, can tolerate twenty Notes. Walter Girls tolerate thirty-five Notes. The Foreman had a tolerance of fifty Notes, enough Notes to kill a bull elephant. The only other Walter Worker with such a high tolerance was her assistant George, who could tolerate forty Notes. Who also seemed to be saying something. The Foreman answered with an absent, “Yes, of course.”  
  
“Well then, I’ll go ahead and flip the kill switch and have a nap.” George dead panned.  
  
“What? What?” Said the Foreman, finally listening. She had been lost in thoughts of last night’s encounter. George, who was perfectly aware of what happened last night and perfectly aware of his boss’ fondness for the Spine, looked at her with annoyance,  
  
“If you don’t stop day dreaming I really will have a nap. Honestly Boss if you don’t confess to the tin man I’ll do it for you.” The Foreman shushed him with an aggressive hiss. She considered George a good friend, but he had a way of getting under her skin.  
  
George was five years the Foreman’s senior and was the original Foreman of the Blue Matter Reactor Facility. He was more than happy to give up his managerial position to her. George, quite frankly, had no patience for people. How he ever rose to the position of Foreman the current Foreman would never understand. Now George minded the logistics of the place and kept to himself. He only ever opened his mouth to inform her of a potential melt down or to dole out a sarcastic quip.  
  
“How can I not day dream?” The Foreman sighed, “I stripped him down for goodness sake.” She regretted the words instantly as heat flooded her whole body. She whispered now, “And I told him he smelled like-” She began coughing. She covered her mouth. George raised an eye brow.  
  
“Are you getting sick? You don’t get sick…” He paused, a thoughtful expression eclipsing his usual scowl, “There must have been enough radiation coming off that robot to kill any viruses that tagged along.”  
  
The Foreman cleared her throat, but before she could comment the entry doors swung open. A lively party of five filled the nearly empty control area with the noise of swishing skirts, heavy footsteps and beautiful voices, “Hey, hey, hey!” The copper robot, Rabbit, was at the fore of the noisy battalion. Before the Foreman could manage a hello she was wrapped in bear hug. Rabbit’s speaking voice, now directly in the Foreman’s ear, was deafening, “It’s the hero of the night! We never gave you a proper thank you! … Thank you!”  
  
“You’re welcome.” Wheezed the Foreman. Once she was released from Rabbit’s grip a heavy hand slapped her back, knocking the wind out of her. The bronze robot, Zer0, spoke next,  
  
“Yeah, we owe you one, Boss. We were worried your organs might be toast and thought we should check up on you.” Rabbit shot a none too subtle glare at Zer0, “Uh, not that we didn’t already know that you were alive before two minutes ago.” He corrected.  
  
The Foreman looked to George for help. George had already disappeared into his office, locking the door behind him. A pair of Walter Girls pushed between the robots. Hazmat suits gone, they were all smiles and flouncy skirts. “Good thing you were here, the Spine must have been spitting up at least forty Notes!” They handed her back a few tools and an empty vial. The Foreman struggled to stay polite and professional. It was all she could do to prevent herself from being dazzled into a stuttering mess. Words could not describe how much she adored these near strangers.  
  
Chelsea and Camille shared the Foreman’s signature look of Blue Matter acclimation. Unnaturally white skin and electric blue hair, but she still could not help but feel shabby in the presence of the immaculate Walter Girls. The group finally gave the Foreman enough room to breathe, only to have the air rush from her lungs again. The Spine entered the circle. He gave her a gentle hug and whispered to her,  
  
“A clothes dryer, really?” The Foreman made an odd squawking sound in response. He pulled away and spoke more to the crowd then to her, “We brought you a little something as thanks, Miss...” The crowd fell silent. The Foreman had worked in the Walter Manor for nearly six years, but not one of them knew her name. Everyone knew she was master of the Blue Matter Reactor Facility, she was accustomed to being called the Foreman, Boss, or Ma’am. But no one of them knew her name.  
  
Through some miracle, despite being flushed, overwhelmed, and out of breath, she maintained her clipped polite tone, “Tilly. It was really nothing really, I think they,” Tilly gestured to the Walter Girls, “Deserve more thanks then me.”  
  
“None the less.” The Spine’s voice and gaze threatened to destroy all of Tilly’s defenses, “We have this for you.” The Spine looked expectantly at Rabbit. Rabbit was carrying on a separate hushed conversation with Zer0. The Spine cleared his throat.  
  
“Huh, what?!” Said Rabbit, “Oh Yeah!” Rabbit felt around her skirts, realized she didn’t have pockets, and then patted her corset. Eventually she fished out a slip of paper. Tilly took it with mounting curiosity. The slip was still warm, it read:  
  
STEAM POWERED GIRAFFE  
CALIFORNIA CENTER FOR THE ARTS  
BACK STAGE PASS  
TUE. JULY 17 3:00 PM  
  
The Foreman’s eyes lit up, “Wonderful! I’ve never been.”  
  
“Never?!” Rabbit exclaimed, scandalized.  
  
“Not that I don’t enjoy your music. I…” Tilly cast her eyes down and sounded embarrassed, “I emit five Notes of radiation. I make people sick…”  
  
Camille huffed, “Well if you’re running around treating Blue Matter cores without a hazmat suit we shouldn’t be surprised. I think you need a vacation from all this.” She gestured to the facility as a whole, “Then your Notes will have to drop.”  
  
Tilly looked at her workspace, still irradiated with the previous night’s accident. She didn’t leave the Manor much, but when she did people would become ill. She wasn’t irradiated enough to kill anyone, but she brought with her a plague of nausea and headaches where ever she went. As a result Tilly buried herself in her work to stave off loneliness and boredom.  
  
“I guess it’s worth a try.” The Foreman said finally.  
  
“Great!” Cheered Rabbit, “It’s like we’re giving you a whole vacation!” The group went on to discuss when they would be departing and transportation. After a few more ‘thank you’s the band left in a noisy clatter of feet and conversation. Tilly stole a glance at the Spine just before he stepped out. He winked and she wobbled. The Foreman leaned against the control console, collecting herself. George reemerged from his hiding place. His monotone voice gave away nothing, but he could not hide the irritation in his eyes,  
  
“Did I hear the word ‘vacation’?”


	3. Chapter 3

Tilly woke up at 7:00 AM sharp. She hadn’t set her alarm, but her internal clock was positive it was time for work. The vacationing Foreman stared at her room from her bed. The walls were coated with Steam Powered Giraffe posters. She knew automatically where every signature was and knew the subtle differences in Rabbit’s face plates. Besides the picturesque mechanical smiles, the room was sparsely furnished. Only a bed, book shelf, wardrobe, and desk to her name. Tilly decided she would lose her mind if she spent the next forty-eight hours sitting around. She dressed comfortably and left her room. Her usual work uniform was thick and heavy, so walking the halls in anything that wasn’t starched and pressed made her feel light. Tilly smiled, maybe a vacation would be nice.  
  
The dining area was dotted with yawning Walter Workers. One group was grunting politely to a tiny chatty metal giraffe. Tilly ambled by with a plate of bacon and eggs, the robot noticed her instantly,  
  
“Tilly!” Squeaked the giraffe, “I didn’t recognize you without your boots. You’re practically naked!” Tilly beamed down at her,  
  
“Well good morning to you too GG. Would you believe I’m on vacation?”  
  
“What!!?” GG screeched, “You’re not allowed those!”  
  
The Foreman winked slyly at the workers. They all grinned gratefully as she led GG away. Tilly was fond of the metal giraffe. She liked to think of GG as the little sister she never had. Tilly would never admit it, but she did occasionally find her voice a little grating. It took a while with GG’s interruptions, but she described the last two days event to her. Carefully omitting how she swooned at the Spine’s very presence.  
  
“You’re so lucky! You’ll get to see me perform in person! Shows are always a lot of fun. Especially when something goes wrong. I love seeing those guys sweat. Not that I’ve ever purposely sabotaged anything. Hey are you OK?” GG’s stream of chatter was interrupted by Tilly’s coughing. She hunched over the table, hands clasped over her mouth. Her eyes pricked with tears as the coughing fit shook her. Tilly looked at her hands. GG was saying something, but she wasn’t listening. Spattered on Tilly’s fingers were three bright yellow petals. She couldn’t identify the exact flower, but they were without a doubt plant matter.  
  
“You need go to the doctor!” GG’s shout broke through Tilly’s confusion. The whole dining area looked in their direction. She gave them all, what she hoped was, a reassuring smile. Tilly stood up.  
  
“I think you’re right.” She whispered to the giraffe. GG nodded in approval and led the way. GG’s walked on all fours, her sharp foot falls clicked decisively towards the Infirmary. Tilly quietly willed herself not to panic. Her throat was burning. GG had no trouble filling in the worried silence, she always had something to say.  
  
The Walter Manor Infirmary was a small place. It aided in the healing of both its organic and mechanical residents. The single physician was of the latter variety. Doctor Ironskull was more ancient then the walls of his domain. He was built in the war days beside the first set of automatons. Unlike many of the older models, he refused to have his frame rebuilt. He insisted everything he needed was already in his model. His model consisted of a massive iron work frame, everything from scalpels to spot welders could be found somewhere on his person.  
  
“Hanahaki, the flower sickness.” Doctor Ironskull’s voice was harsh and deep. GG gasped and made to say something, but the Doctor gave her withering glare. “Yellow tulips to be precise.” He continued, rolling the petals between his needle sharp finger tips, “How romantic. Are you familiar with this ailment, Foreman?” Tilly swallowed,  
  
“Flowers growing in the lungs as a result of… Unrequited love.” She flushed with shame. GG would not be silenced now,  
  
“Who is it?! Do they work here?! Is it a boy?!”  
  
“And you know how it is healed?” The Doctor boomed over GG.  
  
“You’re the doctor why don’t you tell her?” Snapped GG.  
  
Doctor Ironskull glared again. He was over three times her size and short on patience, but GG glared right back. Tilly hid a smile. “It means,” The doctor began again, “You have two options either win over the object of your affection or,” He tugged an insidious looking bone saw from the Swiss army knife that was his forearm, “I split your sternum and weed them out myself.”  
  
Tilly’s blood turned to ice. She felt her throat prickle with another coughing fit. “I’ll need to think about it.” She began coughing. Doctor Ironskull spoke over her pain in a bored voice, “Well think fast Foreman. The longer you let the disease go unchecked the deeper the roots will run and the harder the tulips will be to remove.”  
  
“Can the operation be… fatal?” Tilly asked between coughs, not wanting to picture her ribs being pulled apart. The old robot offered a small trash bin. She took it gratefully, tossing in a mouthful of yellow petals.  
  
“It can be. The rib separation is simple enough. It’s yanking out the roots that can be a problem. The more roots, the more lung tissue that can be damaged. Instead of suffocating on flowers, you’ll just choke on your own blood.” Ironskull’s voice remained dull and gruff. It reminded Tilly of George. “Oh, and you’ll stop loving them. A small price to pay to stay alive I think.”  
  
“In two days then.” Tilly said, her fear almost conquered, “After the concert. I’ll come straight here… For the surgery.”  
  
“Don’t eat solid foods that day.” He replied, the doctor was rummaging through a cabinet. “I have something here that’ll ease the pain in your throat, but it won’t suppress the coughing. The more flowers you get out of your system the easier it will be to breathe.” His iron hands produced a jar of honey, he handed it to Tilly. “A spoonful every hour should do it.” He looked at her now, his expression grave, “If breathing becomes too difficult return at once.”  
  
“She will!” Answered GG, “I’ll keep an eye her.” GG winked at the old doctor. He snorted,  
  
“I hope this ‘concert’ is worth the trouble.”  
  
“Surgery, shmurgery, she’s going to win the Spine’s heart!” Cheered GG. Tilly looked at GG with astonishment. She had not, to her knowledge, made GG privy to the object of her affections. GG, despite not have lips or a pliable tongue, blew a raspberry at Tilly, “Pfffbbbt, who hasn’t had a crush on that guy? I’m surprised more Walter Workers aren’t barfing up flowers.” Tilly laughed uproariously. Doctor Ironskull pointed at the door while shooting the giggling pair another glare. They walked out. Tilly opened the jar of honey and sampled it. It was pleasantly sweet.  
  
“You can’t tell him.” Tilly said to GG.  
  
“’Course I’m not, you’re going to tell him.” GG answered.  
  
“No, I won’t have him dating me out of pity or responsibility.”  
  
“You’re going your win him over with your charm and feminine wiles, Tilly!”  
  
“That would definitely be fatal.”


	4. Chapter 4

Tilly had spent almost all of that day in GG’s company. The little giraffe’s gossip mongering kept her mind off of the deadly bouquet sprouting in her lungs. Today she wanted to keep to herself. Her flip-flops smacked on the concrete stairwell that led down to the laundry room. She carried a basket of dirty uniforms and underthings. The Walter Manor laundry room was fully automated. The washing machines rumbled and conversed quietly amongst themselves. Tilly couldn’t make out the words over the constant dull roaring of the place. But she was sure they were making snide comments at the state of the human’s fabrics.  
  
A row of ironing boards lined the rooms center. To both Tilly’s delight and horror she spotted the Spine talking to one of the ironing armatures. The armature seemed reluctant to give up its steaming iron. The saying may go, “He could charm the birds from the trees”, but the Spine, in his richest baritone, charmed a clothes iron from a semi-sentient automated laundering bot. The armature moved in a way that Tilly could only describe as flustered.  
  
“Good morning, Tilly.” The Spine greeted her in a voice loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise.  
  
“Good morning!” Tilly chirped back. She offered a pair of pants to a neighboring armature who was, quite shamelessly, offering its own iron to the Spine. It took Tilly’s pants reluctantly. The Spine and Tilly said nothing to each other for a while. Tilly loaded her laundry into one the less talkative washing machines and the Spine ironed a shirt with a practiced hand. Tilly thought to herself, ‘Well, I spent all of yesterday talking to a cute robot. Why not today too?’ She glanced at the jar of honey in her basket, then at the Spine’s spines. They waved slowly as the robot worked. In another moment she was hypnotized.  
  
“Excited for the concert?” The Spine’s voice brought her back to the present.  
  
“Absolutely! I think Camille was right my, uhm, Notes have dropped a little already.” Tilly handed her armature another pair of pants. It took them jealously.  
  
“That’s good.” The Spine seemed hesitant. The subtle change of expression made Tilly’s heart leap, “I was wondering. Your eyes they’re blue, well, blue-er than usual.” Tilly tapped a finger to an eyelid. All Walter Worker eyes were blue. Their iris may start any number of colors at birth, but exposure to Blue Matter would change them all eventually. Brown and black eyes took the longest to change, while naturally blue eyes turned to a vibrant electric blue in a matter of weeks. Tilly’s eyes were dyed a deep cobalt. Not only her iris, but her whites as well. Her pupils remained black, this gave her a piercing and alien stare. She assumed this was why new hires shied away from prolonged direct eye contact.  
  
“Over exposure.” Tilly said.  
  
“Why is your tolerance so high? I don’t think I’ve seen another Walter Worker so adept.” Tilly took it as a compliment. Her blue lips turned up in a smile.  
  
“No idea. My parents were never exposed to the stuff, so it’s not hereditary. My theory is I just got...” She made a vague gesture, “A funny DNA mutation. Blue Matter has become a part of me, I can tolerate high levels, but I also emit Notes. So it’s give and take.”  
  
“Now that’s what I call commitment.”  
  
“It’s nice not to be in a constant panic over whether or not I’m safe when something breaks down in the facility.”  
  
“It also makes it easier for you to keep others safe.” The Spine’s smile was so warm and genuine Tilly had to hold onto the ironing board as her knees turned to jelly. ‘How does he do that?’ She wondered.  
  
“Uh yep! But I can’t have pets.” ‘Why would you tell him that?’ “One time a worker wanted to bring some color to the control room so they brought some plants. They were fine for a while, but as soon as I had the shift with them they died… The plants not the worker. They were pretty upset.” ‘I repeat, why would you tell him that?!’ Tilly shut her mouth tight, locking in another ridiculous anecdote. To her great relief the Spine laughed. It was a loud musical laugh that warmed Tilly from head to toe. “But enough about me. How in the world did you crack your core container?”  
  
The Spine’s laughter stopped at once. He said nothing, Tilly read the conflict in glittering green eyes. “You don’t have to tell me.”  
  
“Zer0 was thrown at my chest at about… Thirty miles per hour.” He spoke in a matter of fact tone, but his mortification still shone through.  
  
“What?!” Tilly immediately started cackling. The Spine ironed a vest aggressively and didn’t look up as he explained, steam streaming from his cheeks all the while,  
  
“We were trying out a new bit for the show. We wanted a more… Explosive entrance for Overdrive. Rabbit was supposed to swing onto stage from a suspended tether. She needed to be sure it was the right length, so Zer0 volunteered to swing while Rabbit made adjustments. I said it should be the other way around, but Rabbit wanted to tie her own knots and Zer0 wanted a turn on the tether. And there I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I took Zer0 to the chest.”  
  
Tilly sat on an ironing board, fingers steepled as she repressed not only laughter, but another bout of coughs. The Spine finally looked up, his lips pinched as he remembered the dangerous stunt. Tilly asked in a choked voice, “So will you be performing it live?”  
  
“No!” The Spine looked as if she just insulted him, a hissing cloud of steam punctuated the remark. Tilly nearly tumbled off the ironing board laughing and coughing. The Spine crossed to her side to steady her. Tilly gasped as she felt the Spine’s piping hot metal fingers on her bare skin. She covered her mouth hoping no petals escaped during her astonishment. She pointed at the jar honey. Confused, but eager to help, the robot took it. In the brief second he wasn’t looking, Tilly stuffed a handful of obnoxiously yellow tulip petals down her shirt.  
  
When Tilly could finally breathe again the Spine asked, “Are you alright? If you’re ill…” She could her the revoking of her concert attendance in those few words. Tilly answered quickly around a mouthful of honey.  
  
“It’s just a cough. I’m irradiated remember? A little Blue Matter should kill off the microbes. But, as you know, I’ve had to stay away from the facility.” The Spine frowned, but accepted her response. She hurried to change the subject, “So what’s the set list look like? Will you sing Starlight? That one’s my favorite.”  
  
The Spine described the set list in intimate detail as he set upon another dress shirt. Tilly handed the catty armature a lab coat. The Spine’s voice, the humidity, the smell of clothes driers, and the honey on her tongue, was all so wonderful and terrible. She would rather go one with her one sided love, then to feel nothing. She cursed her lungs, she cursed his charm, and she cursed the armature trying to nudge her of its ironing board. She wanted to cry, she wanted to fall onto one knee and propose.  
  
Tilly became increasingly aware of the Spine’s glances. His eyes flashed up at her every so often. She was propped up on the ironing board right in front of him. Tilly sat knee over knee, by any modern standard her casual clothing was perfectly modest: a tank top, shorts, and flip-flops. Still she flushed hot at her exposed knees and bare shoulders. She thought of how unnaturally hot his hands were.  
  
“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re awfully purple.” The Spine looked straight at her, standing up straight. Walter Worker’s blood took a purplish tint after acclimation. But Tilly was over exposed, so her blush was purple-er then the average Walter Worker. Tilly hopped off the ironing board.  
  
“Perfectly alright!” She said in a higher voice then she meant to. Tilly hurried to her washing machine, who loudly announced the clothes completion. Tilly was sweating bullets as she stuffed her clothing in the dryer. She desperately tried not to remember how she called the Spine a clothes dryer. Tilly breathed deeply, slowing her racing heart and collecting her thoughts. She turned slowly to find the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. The Spine humming softly and folding her uniform. Once again she found herself in the bizarre state of wanting to both cry and pledge a life time of happiness.  
  
The pair continued to talk about nothing and everything. Tilly excused herself not long after their chores were complete. They said their good-byes, but neither of them seemed to want to leave first. But the armature wanted its iron back. While the Spine thanked it graciously Tilly took the opportunity to walk away.

  



	5. Chapter 5

Tilly slept poorly that night. When she was not coughing up petal after petal, her dreams were filled with the Spine. His touch, his scent, his smile. When 7:00 AM came Tilly was already out of bed, dressed and fed. She wore more covering clothes this time. Not only did they protect her new found sense of propriety, but they also concealed a nearly empty jar of honey and a spoon.  
  
She had her Notes checked with George. His permanent scowl and monotone voice where unchanged, “Congratulations, you’re only emitting two Notes. If you steer clear of the very old and very young the public will never know you’re a health hazard.” The Foreman grinned madly at her assistant. George’s scowl deepened. “GG told me about the flower sickness.” Her smile disappeared. “And I can say I don’t approve. You should be on your way to the Infirmary not a concert.”  
  
“I’m going straight there afterwards. It’ll only be a few more hours.” The Foreman sniffed. George sneered.  
“If this kills you I’ll pop the head off of the tin man. I swear it.” Tilly looked up at him amused, but he was serious.  
  
“I’ll be fine.” She said, “The tulips will be plucked, and I’ll get few more days of vacation while I get to lay around during recovery.”  
  
“The hell you will, I’ll personally wheel your sick bed down here.” The Assistant growled and looked away.  
  
The Walter Manor garage buzzed with activity. Robots, instruments, and surprising number of tools were being loaded. Due to the robots enormous weight they got their own vehicle, they chatted excitedly as they entered a van meant for moving furniture. Tilly let an, “Aww.” escape her lips as she watched the Spine offer his hand to Rabbit, who had to lift her skirts as she stepped up into the van.  
  
The humans piled into a car. The sound guy was behind the wheel, a drummer in the passenger seat, and Tilly was squeezed between a pair of Walter Girls. The group conversed about the concert and their routines. Tilly got a word in every now and then, but she kept her responses short. She was finding it difficult to breath. She chalked it down to her cramped confinements and the burning July sun.  
  
When they arrived Tilly excused herself to the restroom. She was grateful to find the venue offered a private wash closet to its performers. She tried to breathe deeply, but the breaths were short. She hacked and coughed, the tulip petals fell into the sink. Her eyes watered as she reached for the honey in her pocket. ‘Not now, not yet, just a few more hours.’ She pleaded to her lungs. Minutes passed, there was a knock.  
  
“Tilly? Are you still in there? Did you want to watch the sound test?” She recognized Camille’s voice. Tilly flushed several mouthfuls of petals down the toilet.  
  
“Just a moment.” She called after. She heard receding footsteps as the Walter Girl left. Tilly’s breathing came easier now. She wondered if she hadn’t just coughed up every flower in her chest. She ate the last of her honey. By now she was sick of the sweetness and threw the jar into the trash with satisfying thunk.  
  
Tilly sat in the front row as the sound check was conducted. The Foreman new her Blue Matter Reactor Facility in and out, but the technicalities of sound equipment were lost on her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the Spine, he smiled down at her every now and then. It was like an injection of pure happiness, she could not help but grin back. But her sleepless night caught up with her, Tilly dozed as the check went on.  
  
She woke with a start when a small metal hoof smacked her across the face. GG’s owlish eyes were only inches from her own. It took every ounce of Tilly’s self-control not to launch out of her seat. “Wakey, wakey!” GG said in a sing song voice, “I’m the show opener! And you can’t miss it!”  
  
“There you are!” Exclaimed Chelsea. She swept GG of off Tilly’s lap like an impatient mother. She rested the little robot on her hip. “You needed to be in your station yesterday!” The auditorium doors swung open. Tilly twisted around to watch as guests filed in. The seats around her were quickly occupied and excitement filled the air. A few minutes later the house lights dimmed and the opening notes of the concert trilled to life.  
  
The show was a harmonious and colorful spectacle. Tilly fell in love with Steam Powered Giraffe all over again. The pre-recorded music she had listened to at least a hundred times did not compare to the live performance. However her reverence was broken when another wave of coughs rattled her whole body. She tried to muffle them, but her neighbors noticed and did not hide their disgust. She smiled weakly and apologized. “Allergies.” She muttered. They were unconvinced.  
  
The show went on, Tilly breathed, coughed, and was dazzled. She was sure at one point the Spine looked down at her with concern, but she didn’t dare look distressed. Not when she finally sat before everything she ever loved. What she would stop loving when the parasitic flowers were picked from her aching chest. After an hour of tearing and shaking and her neighbors moving as far away as they could, the final song played. Tilly’s coughs were lost in the crowd as they all sang along. The vile tulip petals fell freely now, coating her hands, her blouse, and her senses. And to thunderous applause Tilly collapsed. She saw through a veil of tears the Spine jump off the stage. He tore at the delicate wiring at his back. Loud audio pops and a feedback whine followed his descent. Rabbit was hastily trying to thank and dismiss the confused crowd.  
  
The Spine’s lips were moving, but the blood was roaring in Tilly’s ears. Something was clawing up her throat. She coughed harder, leaves spewed from her diaphragm. The thing squirmed further up her throat. With more fear then she had ever felt in her whole life, Tilly reached into her mouth. Slowly, inch by painful inch, she pulled a thick green tulip stem from her mouth. It ended in a revolting yellow bloom. Someone screamed. A merciful darkness clouded Tilly’s vision and then she felt nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

Tilly woke for the third time that day. People and robots were yelling,  
  
“Why wasn’t she brought to me sooner?!”  
  
“It’s your fault, Tin Man! If you weren’t stringing her along-.”  
  
“Put a cork in it, Assistant! If I had known-.”  
  
“Stop shouting and do something, Doctor!!”  
  
“Finally the giraffe speaks some sense. She’s waking up.”  
  
Tilly could feel eyes on her. She opened her own to them. Tilly had never seen such a mess of emotion before. So she did what she always did when she didn’t know what to do, smile politely.  
  
“Are we just going to stand here all day or are you going to operate?!” George’s normally emotionless voice was seething with rage.  
  
“I need an X-ray.” Snarled Doctor Ironskull, “I need this area sterilized and I need you all out of my sight!”  
  
“She’s barely breathing!” Cried GG. GG was dancing frantically at Tilly’s bed side. The Spine’s hat eclipsed the harsh lights of the Infirmary as he bent over her. Tilly wanted to say something, but she could only focus on breathing. Her lungs didn’t fill with enough air. Without warning, the Spine scooped Tilly into his arms.  
  
The Foreman felt as if she was watching herself being carried. She recognized the halls that led to the Blue Matter Reactor Facility. The Spine was billowing steam as he marched down the halls with the force of a locomotive. She listened in distant glee as the Spine commanded her baffled subordinates.  
  
“I need a gram of enriched Blue Matter…” No one moved. “Now!” He bellowed. His baritone bounced off the walls and rung in her ears. Everyone moved. The Spine sprinted to the hazardous waste storage area, Tilly felt feather light in his arms. He swung open the lead doors with one hand. He came to a crouch at end of the room, facing the metal drums. The Spine placed Tilly down gently. She leaned against him, her blue within blue eyes were clouded and her breathing was labored. Someone in hazmat suit stumbled in carrying a small glass vial. The Spine took it and popped the rubber stopper.  
  
“Breath.” He sighed into her ear while holding the vial just under Tilly’s nose. Tilly obeyed, tiny particles of Blue Matter floated into her nostrils. “Hanahaki… It’s just plants isn’t it?” He spoke in slow murmur. “Just plants, like the ones that tried and failed to decorate the console. They don’t stand a chance against you, do they Tilly?” Tilly tried to respond, but only another cough came, weaker now.  
  
Doctor Ironskull seemed to materialize in the blue gloom of the hazardous waste storage. He placed a hand on the vial. “Good idea, Sergeant. That’s enough now.” The old war bots eyed each other for a moment. Then the Spine surrendered Tilly to the Doctor. His fingers were quick and precise as he pulled tulips from the girl with hair thin tweezers. They were discolored now. The yellow turned to a sickly green and the stems were withered. Tilly could feel her lungs fill completely with oxygen again, but her head spun and her stomach lurched. Rotten flowers decorated the concrete.  
  
After a tense few minutes Ironskull completed the cleansing. He said, “She’ll live. Foreman Tilly’s made of tough stuff, she’ll bounce back fast enough.” The Spine said nothing, only nodded, his eyes followed the steady rise and fall of her chest. Tilly could feel her consciousness slipping again. In a faraway rasp she heard the Doctor say, “She’s lucky to be alive. But, I think you and I know, the Blue Matter was only a catalyst.”  
  
Tilly woke for a fourth time, the room was dark. She tried to sit up, but her stomach rolled. A gentle hand urged her to lie down again. She took it, the titanium hand was warm as a hot cup of coffee and perfectly smooth. A pair of green eyes gleamed in the darkness. They were silent for a while, she could hear the whisper of gears turning in the Spine’s body. Tilly’s eyes adjusted to the dimness of the Infirmary. Soft starlight filtered through a dusty window, illuminating the Spine’s angular features. He looked relieved, the emerald light of his pseudo-irises spilled over his cheeks like tear stains.  
  
“Sorry I ruined the concert.” Tilly’s voice was hoarse, but she was over joyed to simply be breathing again. Never mind the beautiful silver robot who knelt beside her bed. “You’ll need to reimburse the people is seats A11 and A13.” The Spine let out a snort of laughter that in turn released a puff of steam.  
  
“Steve will never forgive me for treating the sound equipment like that.” The Spine huffed. Tilly brought her hand to his face. She ran a finger down the contour of his expertly manufactured cheek bones,  
  
“Thank you, Spine.” She said, “You saved my life.”  
  
“I owed you one… Next time you have a parasitic fairy tale disease, please mention it.” The Spine feigned nonchalance.  
  
“How about butterflies in the stomach?”  
  
“Sixty Notes of Blue Matter radiation should have taken care of those too.”  
  
Tilly giggled, she was about to mention something about a frog in her throat, but found her lips locked. The Spine’s kiss was tender. His lips were perfectly pliable, he tasted like a humid night served on a silver platter.  
  
“You taste like a dishwasher.” Tilly felt The Spine smile.

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fic! Please tell me what you think.


End file.
